


Not You Again

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conventions, Drinking, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Sexual Frustration, Snark, Stairwell makeouts, Tumblr Prompt, Writers, there will be a part two, undercurrent of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 18:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: James Flint finds himself at the booth next to John Silver's at yet another convention, and this time it's the last straw.





	Not You Again

Flint scowled at the name on the booth next to his.

_John Silver_

This was the third convention in a row where this had happened. He was beginning to think he'd been cursed. Why else would he constantly be stuck next to John Silver? They didn’t even write the same medium for fuck’s sake.

"Ugh." The annoyance in question said as he strolled up to the booth. "Not you again."

"Trust me, I'm less than thrilled with this set-up." Flint muttered.

“I’m sure you could have used your considerable influence to get me stuck in a dark corner somewhere if you tried hard enough.” Silver ran a hand through his hair as he moved around behind his table.

Flint ignored all of that as he was prone to ignoring anytime Silver did something that might have been considered attractive to the general bystander, focusing instead on the words.

“My influence?”

“We both know you got me removed from the hotel in Atlanta.” Silver reached for a water bottle.

Flint pursed his lips. “I’m sure I don’t remember the circumstances,” (Silver snorted at this) “but I’m sure they were deserved.”

“Fuck off.”

“You first.”

 *  *  *

It was just so irritating, the charming way Silver had with his fans. He was so easy-going. How could he be so cheerful after the long hours they had been sitting there, stuck in their booths with person after person wanting the same damn thing?  _Hi, my name is So &So, I just loved your Book. It made me Feel Things. Please make it out to Brunhilde._ Flint desperately needed some coffee and a break from everything.

He finished scrawling the signature he was currently writing and handed the book over. “Next.”

“Thank you so much for coming.” Silver smiled up at the fan in front of him. “Enjoy the rest of the convention!”

Flint scowled. In the back of his head he could hear Eleanor going “BE NICE.”

He didn’t want to be nice. He wanted to be home working on his next book. Except…except for the part where he was stuck, which was the only reason he had even agreed to go to this convention. He had already gone to his pre-requisite three conventions for the year and John Silver had been at all three of them, which made this the fourth fucking time Flint had dealt with him in the span of a single year, which was so cosmically unfair he didn’t even know what to say anymore.

He sighed as he scrawled his name over the front page of the book in front of him.

“Next.”

  *  *  *

As soon as the day’s signing was over, Flint was gone. He disappeared through the back of the booth and ducked down the tiny hall between the booths until it was clear and he walked out onto the main floor. He didn’t usually get mobbed at these things but occasionally there’d be someone who wanted to gush over how one of his books made them  _feel._  That was the last thing in the world Flint ever wanted. It wasn’t that he minded people having emotions over his books; he simply preferred they have them far away from him. 

On the rare occasion that he got letters from fans, he actually answered them. Letters were a civilized method of communication. There was one in particular that he had always kept, but never gotten around to responding to, because he simply liked rereading it and imagining the different responses his own reply would provoke. As long as he didn’t turn those imaginings into reality, he could still examine all the possibilities and that was half the fun of it. Imagining the possibilities was why he was a fucking writer to begin with.

He left the convention hall and went across the hotel to the bar. Finally, he could relax and have a drink and not think about John Silver for just a little while.

“Whiskey, please. Make it a double, thank you.” He took a seat at the bar and uttered a faint sigh of relief, letting his head hang between his shoulders. His neck and shoulders were so tight; it made him want to scream.

“Please don’t cause a scene.”

He jerked his head up at the sound of a familiar voice.

“What?” Flint demanded, looking over to find Silver sitting a few stools down. “Oh fucking hell.”

To his extreme annoyance Silver got up and moved closer until he was on the stool right next to Flint. That was just too much. Flint could  _smell_ him for fuck’s sake. And how was it even remotely fair that after sitting at a table in a cramped booth for hours, Silver still smelled fucking good? Flint knew the underarms of his own shirt had sweated through and dried again underneath his jacket. He wanted a shower after his drink, but mostly he didn’t want to know how good Silver smelled. He didn’t need that particular bit of information rattling around in his brain.

“This is the only bar in the hotel, and I desperately need a drink.” Silver said quietly.

“Well, who’s stopping you?” Flint glowered at his own glass. He too desperately just wanted a drink and to be left alone before he retired to his room for the night.

“So we can both drink in peace here?” Silver raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to try to get me tossed out like you did in Atlanta?”

This time Flint smirked at the memory, finally owning his hand in the matter. “Look, you were drunk.”

“I was…” Silver shook his head, “I’m not doing this with you.” He took a sip of his vodka tonic and cracked his neck.

Flint watched in spite of himself, interested in spite of himself, bored with anything else around him that wasn’t Silver and he couldn’t help that either. He wished he could find relief as easily as cracking his neck.

“Thought you’d be going to one of the parties.” He couldn’t resist saying. Silver was the type to go to parties, enjoy himself, all the rubbish.

“I needed a break.” Silver finished the drink in front of him and set the glass down. The bartender raised an eyebrow at him and Silver smiled, nodding in response. She brought him a fresh drink.

“Oh, being surrounded by adoring fans a little too much for you?” Flint sneered just a trifle. “Can I get another as well?” He raised his glass and the bartender barely repressed a sigh and nodded.

Flint scowled. Why was it so easy for Silver and not for him?

Silver looked at him levelly. “Being around that many people all day does take a toll, yeah. Especially since I try to give them an actual enjoyable experience to remember later.” His words were only slightly loaded but Flint felt it all the same.

“Get stuffed.” Flint muttered into his drink. “We’re not all born likeable, you know.”

“It’s not a crime to be likeable.” Silver pointed out. He fell silent as the bartender brought Flint his whiskey.

“Are you sure?” Flint accepted his fresh drink gratefully. He took a long swallow, trying to let the alcohol just relax him as it was meant to. He still felt the tension in his shoulders, the slight headache from being out on the floor with so many people around. It wasn’t aimed at Silver anymore though, which was interesting.

Silver had his phone out, eying the screen intently, giving Flint the opportunity to study him. What was it about Silver that irritated him so? The easy charm? The devilish attractiveness? The stupid mouth that Flint thought about long after he had left a convention and should have been focused on entirely different things.

He drank his whiskey quickly, aware that he should pace himself, but not really wanting to. He just had to get through tomorrow and he could do that with a hangover.

Silver finally set his phone down with a faint sigh. He took a sip of his own drink, tapping the glass against his lip as he looked down at his phone again and then finally glanced up again. He caught Flint’s eye.

“What?”

“How’re you so good with them?” Flint had had enough alcohol by now to ask the question that had been bugging him. He didn’t really want to know, and yet he did. Why was it so easy for Silver? How could he just sit there talking to people like he cared?

Silver looked down at his drink again and then around the bar. “I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me? Voluntarily?”

“Yes.” Flint took a sip of whiskey. “You’re so… _nice_  to them.” His nose wrinkled as he said the word, like there was something wrong with it.

Silver stared at him. “It’s easy to be nice to people.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is if you want them to buy your comics.” Silver countered.

“Is that it?” Flint snorted. He had never bought into the-be-nice-to-the-reader bullshit. Either they wanted to read his stuff, or they didn’t. It wasn’t his job to fucking woo them. He was the writer, that was all. “Besides, you seem to be doing all right.”

“Actually.” Silver grinned faintly, a brief flash of teeth that left Flint feeling bereft when it had vanished again. “That’s partly due to you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Silver had gone back to staring at his phone, but his ears were slightly pink and Flint found himself curious. He wanted to know what Silver had meant by that. How was it possibly to do with Flint of all people?

“No, you can’t say something like that and just leave it.”

“Why not?” Silver took a sip of his drink and again Flint found himself watching the motion of his throat with a slightly pained longing. He looked away, his grip tightening on his glass.

“Because I want to know.”

“Okay…” Silver chewed his lower lip long enough to make Flint want to stuck his thumb along, tug it down and just fucking kiss him. He shook himself and told himself to get a fucking grip. He wasn’t going to kiss Silver of all people. For starters, Silver wasn’t gay as far as he knew, and even if he was, he wouldn’t be Flint’s type.

_Liar, liar, pants on fire._

“I based one of my newer characters on you.” Silver said at last.

Flint blinked. “You did what?”

“I based one of my newer characters on you.” Silver repeated patiently.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

Flint was flabbergasted. He’d never heard such a preposterous thing. What gave Silver the fucking right to do that? “How dare you?” He spluttered at last, aware that he had to say  _something,_  but words really failed him since he had never imagined such a thing happening. Whoever heard of such a thing?

“What?” Silver shrugged. “People love you in fictional form. This whole brusque dick thing really works in comic form. It’s slightly weird. I mean not really when you look at classic literature. Heathcliff, Darcy, Rochester, etc.”

“Excuse me, did you just call me a dick?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, I’m attracted to dicks.”

Flint gaped at him. “Are you saying you’re attracted to me?” This was entirely new information that he didn’t know what to do with.

“Shh, not so loud. I don’t want it getting around the convention. I’ll be blackballed from certain groups.”

Silver was messing with him. He had to be.

Flint downed his whiskey, got out his wallet and tossed a bill down. He started walking towards the elevators. He had simultaneously had too much and not enough alcohol to deal with this. He needed to either raid his mini-bar or take a very cold shower, or possibly a third option that hadn’t precisely occurred to him yet but he was certain he’d come up with something.

“Hey!  _Hey!_ ”

He turned around to find Silver following him. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Silver said abruptly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Look, I didn’t mean to call you a dick. Or maybe I did. I don’t know. You’re just so fucking unapproachable.”

“What?” Flint said, all too aware that he was just repeating himself at this point, but it was the only word that kept making any sense for him to say.

“It’s just how many conventions have we been at together now and every time I open my mouth, it’s all you can do to keep from biting my head off.”

“And that bothers you, does it?” Flint said scathingly. He couldn’t believe this shit. Silver had to be making fun of him. “Someone doesn’t love you the moment you open your fucking pretty mouth, boo-fucking-hoo.”

Silver stared at him. “Look, screw you. Just because you don’t consider comics real books, doesn’t make you any better a writer than I am.”

“Oh yeah?” Flint sneered. “You know why they invited you to these things? Because you’re a pretty face and you bring the crowds in, but at the end of the day, who’s going to remember your little picture books, huh? No one. That’s who.” The moment he said the words, he knew they were too much, the bitterly built up resentment of his own doubt and annoyance and nothing to do with Silver’s own talent in the slightest. He  _was_ a dick; Eleanor was right. 

Silver glowered at him. “Fuck you.” He bit off and turned away, stalking off down the hall.

Flint stood there, and then he sighed.  _Fuck._

“Silver. Wait.” He went after him. “Listen.”

“I think you’ve said quite enough for one evening.” Silver said, neatly sidestepping him when Flint walked in front of him.

“Look, I didn’t mean. I mean, I meant it, but I didn’t  _mean_  it.” Flint said incomprehensibly.

“Oh believe me, I know.” Silver uttered a short bitter laugh and it made Flint cringe.

He beat Silver to the elevator and moved in front of the doors. “Just let me say something.”

“No.” Silver said stubbornly. When Flint didn’t move, he turned and headed for the stairwell instead.

Flint simply followed.

“Just leave me alone, will you?” Silver threw over his shoulder as he slammed through the door.

“Now hang on.” Flint said, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him into the wall.

Silver glared up at him. “Get out of my way.”

“We have to deal with this.” Flint said, aware that he was standing too close to Silver now, aware too that he could smell that intoxicating scent of him again, that if he moved any closer, his body would be leaning into Silver’s, that it would be easy to pin Silver’s arms over his head and keep him there while he did whatever he wanted.

“Deal with what? That you think I’m a shit writer, hell, not even a real writer from the sounds of it.” Silver’s gaze slid past Flint’s shoulder like there was something on the opposite wall that he found infinitely more fascinating than Flint.

“Look.” Flint said. “I said that in the heat of the moment. I was frustrated and exhausted and intoxicated, and I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Is that right?” Silver muttered.

“It’s just…so irritating seeing you at that other table, convention after convention.” Flint said finally.

“Believe me, I wish it wasn’t happening either.”

He shoved Silver into the stairwell “But it’s going to keep happening, isn’t it?” Flint asked for some reason. They weren’t able to escape this, whatever it was.

“Very likely.” Silver leaned his head back against the wall and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh.

“Fine.” Flint placed his hands firmly on Silver’s face and pushed him up against the wall and stuck his tongue down his throat. Flint had one moment of glorious kissing, Silver’s mouth responding to his out of pure lust, before Silver’s brain took over.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Silver pushed him off. “What’re you doing?”

“I can’t deal with sitting next to your smirk for the next two days, so I am going to fuck it out of you.”

“Excuse me.” Silver stared at him. “Just like that, you think you get to fuck me? In a stairwell? After the shit you said?”

“Well, maybe not fuck you.” Flint conceded. “But I am going to make you come so hard you’re hoarse tomorrow.” This was the end solution his hazy brain had come up with and he was just gonna run with it.

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly are you going to do that?”

“Like this.” Flint said smoothly and reached down for Silver’s zipper.

Strangely enough Silver had gone silent in that moment. He stayed pressed against the wall, watching Flint with hooded eyes as Flint drew out his dick.

 _Now that was worth it_ , Flint thought appreciatively. Seeing Silver’s dick was worth all this. He probably should have sucked Silver’s dick long ago. It would have saved him a lot of stress. He ran his fingertips lightly over Silver’s length, just a brush, all the way down to the tip, making him shiver.

Silver watched him, eyes heated. “All right then, get on with it.”

“I will.” Flint said, slowly going to his knees. He just stayed there, waiting, gazing at Silver standing there in the stairwell with his dick out. Silver, waiting for  _Flint_  to touch his dick. Flint could have waited there forever, watching him like this.

“You’re an asshole, you know that.” Silver groaned, knocking his head back against the wall.

Flint ignored him. The head of Silver’s dick dangled temptingly in front of him. It was beautiful in its vulnerabliity. Flint imagined how good it would feel on his tongue and now he was going to actually taste him.

“I know.” Flint murmured belatedly, finally licking around the spongey head, already hating how much he loved the taste of Silver in his mouth.

Silver gasped, fingers coursing through the waves of Flint’s hair as Flint eased him down his throat inch by inch, fucking teasing him mercilessly. He loved the feel of Silver’s dick in his mouth, the comfortable weight of him on his tongue. God, Flint had needed this.

He moved seamlessly, bobbing his head in a lazy rhythm that left Silver trying to hold on, doing his best not to come and knowing he was going to anyway, as soon as Flint made him.

Flint glanced up and  _fuck_ , just the sight of Silver’s face, his eyes closed, his lips parted, one hand in Flint’s hair, the other braced against the wall, just made all the blood rush straight to Flint’s dick. Silver groaned, sharp white teeth sinking into his plump lower lip and Flint stifled a moan around his cock.

He needed to kiss Silver again. Right fucking now. 

Flint drew off, a thin line of spit swinging loosely between his lips and Silver’s dick, as he surged to his feet.

“What’re you doing?” Silver asked breathlessly. “You’re not going to leave me like that. You wouldn’t. Even you wouldn’t be that much of a dick.”

Flint grabbed his wrists and pushed them high above his head, pinning them there, making Silver groan again, before he silenced that captivating mouth with a kiss. Silver moaned appreciatively around his tongue. Flint sucked wetly on it, leaving Silver no room for control in the kiss. From the sounds of it, Silver held no objection.

Flint thrust a knee between his thighs and Silver ground against it, desperately. Flint glanced down between their bodies, watching SIlver practically ride his thigh in his need to get off, his dick slapping heatedly between their bodies.

 Flint sunk his teeth into Silver’s lower lip and Silver came with a throaty shout, hips pressing sharply against Flint’s thigh.

Flint dragged his teeth over Silver’s tongue, catching his lip again, making Silver hiss before he released him, and then he leaned down to suck at his neck. He kept moving against Silver, aware that Silver was moaning now from the friction of his jeans against his sensitized dick, but Flint kept grinding against him until the familiar rush overtook him and he couldn’t help it, he bit the soft flesh of Silver’s neck as he came, well aware that he couldn’t take this back once he’d done it and unable to stop himself anyway.

Silver keened helplessly in his throat, as Flint leaned his whole weight against him. There was no sound in the stairwell except their mingled ragged breath.

Finally Flint drew back and straightened up. His trousers were sticky. He felt frayed and raw and curiously exhilarated. “Fuck.”

“I need a shower.” Silver said, dazedly. “I need a shower and another drink and to know  what just happened.”

“And fresh clothes” Flint said, staring down at the come stains on his shirt and jeans. “Christ, you got jizz everywhere.”

“If you had kept your mouth on my dick where it belonged, that wouldn’t have been an issue.” Silver hissed at him. He turned and started stomping up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Flint stared at him. “It’s thirteen floors.”

“You want to go on the elevator looking like this?” Silver gestured between them. He had a point. His own jeans were clearly stained and Flint was a fucking mess.

Flint sighed and started walking up the stairs too.

*  *  *

Of course they were on the same floor. They walked side by side down the hall in silence until Silver stopped abruptly in front of 13D.

“Well, this is me.” He nodded at the door.

“Fine.” Flint said brusquely. “See you tomorrow.” He started for his own room.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” Silver muttered and went into his room.

Flint paused and looked back over his shoulder but Silver had already closed the door.

Flint sighed and went into his room and closed the door. Finally, he could shower in peace and not think about what he had just done. Except his body felt more relaxed than it had in months. Maybe there was something to be said for this method of destressing.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out.

“Hello?”

“Fucking finally.” Eleanor said. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh.” Flint said.

There was a silence.

“Is there a situation, James?”

“No.” Flint said. Eleanor was his editor and a very good one and he didn’t want to lose her at this juncture. It would be a hassle to find another one who did their job so well.

“ _James_.”

“I…may have…hooked up with John Silver.” Flint confessed, rubbing wearily at his forehead. Was that even the right lingo for what had happened in the stairwell? He wasn’t sure. Something along those lines.

“FINALLY.” Eleanor groaned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Max and I have been trying to get you two together for practically a century. It took so fucking long.”

“You set us up!?” Flint felt his headache returning.

“Why else do you think you two kept winding up with booths next to each other?” 

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh come on, the sex couldn’t have been that bad.”

“The sex was fine.” Flint protested and then bit his tongue. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you, Eleanor.”

“That’s because you didn’t have one until I set you up.”

“I’m not having this conversation.” Flint ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. It kept vibrating but he ignored it as he went to take a shower, and it had stopped by the time he got out.

While he showered he deliberately didn’t think about the fact that Silver was probably doing the exact same thing just down the hall.

After the shower he should have gone to bed straight to bed, and he intended to do so in a moment. But first, he sat down at the hotel desk, and opened his laptop, reaching for his pocket notebook as he reviewed his notes from earlier in the day. He tapped his pen against his notebook thoughtfully.

Maybe, just maybe, what his next book needed was a young con artist who got embroiled in a scheme way over his head and didn’t know how to talk his way out this time.

He made a few notes and then finally closed his laptop and went to sleep.

 *  *  *

The next morning Flint woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in longer than he could recall. He laid in bed for a moment, wondering why he was in such a good mood and then he remembered.

_Fuck._


End file.
